Only One Way This Will End
by WhiteMoon56
Summary: It has been years since Lavellan last saw Solas, realizing the truth about his identity and his plans for the world. Despite his assurances he could not be saved, she holds on to hope. When she at last sees him again, it is already too late. Or is it?


"You know what we're here for. I'm still shocked you wanted to come." The captain pulled on the bowstring in his hands, testing its spring. The creak it made was nearly drowned out by the wind and the cries of terror. Elita tucked a rogue strand of hair behind her ear, shrugging lightly.

"I have my reasons… captain." _I intend to find him first. You will not harm him._

A short cough, tired eyes darted to her missing left hand. "Can you even fight in that… condition?" He looked vaguely embarrassed by his own question, searching for a place to look other than her face.

Laughter bubbled past her lips, very nearly forced. Fire ignited in the tips of her fingers, swirling and flowing in her palm. She extended it towards the captain, smiling. "Please. I don't need both of my hands to be dangerous."

Swallowing nervously, the captain took several steps back from the flames. "Of… of course, Inquisitor." The bow in his hand shook slightly.

 _Oh, not this again. I'm not a threat to you._ Her fist closed around the fire; it extinguished in a small puff of smoke. "…We've discussed this, captain." The sigh that followed was tired, all humor gone.

"Force of habit… Lavellan." He returned to stand next to her again, rolling his shoulders. Five more archers appeared behind him, of varying heights and races. All in one fluid motion, six arrows were nocked.

 _Right, Elita. Put Fade Step to good use._ She twisted her staff off her back in one twirling movement, knocking the edge of the lyrium crystal against the grass. It sparked to life in a flash of purple lightning, making the young elf to her left jump. Biting her lip to conceal her laughter, she threw him a smile over her shoulder. "A little lightning never hurt anyone."

He took a long breath, his jaw slightly slack at her light tone. She almost expected him to speak, but his gaze fell to his bow and his lips pursed shut. Recognizing the stance of someone addressing authority, she turned her back. _I'm still too much of an enigma. The 'Herald'. The 'Inquisitor'. They don't know what to do with me._ Rotating her wrist, the staff spun in loose circles in the air around her, the sound of crackling lighting filling her ears.

 _He's down there somewhere._ Her eyes scanned the valley beneath them, but the smoke and the height permitted no details. _It's been so long…_ Darting a glance at the captain, she brought her staff to a halt, gripped at the ready. _I'm going to speak to him. You can't get in my way._ A stray spark of electricity struck the ground at the captain's feet, setting the grass ablaze.

With a faint gasp he stamped it out, smothering the flames beneath his boot. An eyebrow arched as the last of the fire died. "Are you… well?"

Elita nodded, blinking rapidly. "Yes. Yes, I'm fine. Thank you."

He looked unsure if that was true, but turned his attention to the small army that had formed behind him. His voice raised in the level of authority as he addressed them. "You all know the goal. Protect any innocents. Cut down any opposition. The suffering and turmoil have gone on long enough. It ends today."

Giving the tiniest shake of her head, Elita tested the magic in the area around her. _There is no ending this. He has torn the Veil. It is torn here. It was torn in the last place we searched._ She closed her eyes. _He altered the world's natural state. There is no repairing that. There is only change, adaptation, and understanding._ When she opened them again, the captain was assessing her face with worry.

"I'll be fine, captain. Just analyzing the state of the Veil." She offered the flash of a smile. His eyes darkened. _A lot of understanding._

A gesture with his bow indicated he wanted her to elaborate. Raising her fingers, she gripped the invisible edge of something in front of her and ripped it right down the middle. "Torn. Beyond repair. As it was… everywhere else." Spinning away from him, she crossed her arm over her chest. "Should be exciting."

A deep sigh escaped him, pulling on the bowstring again and running his thumb along the arrow. "How you can possibly make light of this is beyond me. Are you ready?"

Elita raised a barrier around herself, condensing it so it protected the small group around her as well. _If I didn't make light of it, I'd be useless. We all cope in different ways, captain._ She gave her staff another practiced twirl. "No time like the present."

The sentence earned her another look from the captain, but he raised the arrow in his hand skyward and let loose a cry of battle. She kept pace with the group as it surged down the mountainside, pouring farther into the valley with purpose. Each step drained the barrier a little, and her eyes darted around the landscape for a sign of him. _Something. Anything._ But the smoke and fire gave nothing away.

Eyeing the group of archers around her, she checked the state of her barrier. _Almost…_ And the party stopped, the captain raising a hand in a gesture to get down. Five other knees were taken in near perfect unison. Elita knelt slightly away from the men, the crystal on her staff nearly brushing the grass. _He can't have found him. He can't…_

Just as the captain rose to stand again, the Veil rippled. It was clear he felt nothing, but the sensation made Elita's heart leap in her chest, as though she'd been shocked. The feeling tugged her east, the opposite direction the captain was looking, straining against her ribs like a trapped butterfly. _Him. It has to be._ Inhaling silently, she slammed her eyes closed, determined to give nothing away. No one around her moved.

An arrow shaft prodded her in the side, causing her eyes to fly open. The captain was kneeling next to her, scrutinizing her face with clear suspicion. To his left, the five other archers sat with rapt attention, bows prepared to fire. His voice was accusatory, the patience gone. "Tell me where he is. I know you can tell."

Elita didn't flinch at the jab, or the way his fingers curled in the custom military gesture of _aim._ The young elf who had jumped at her lightning leveled his arrow at her heart. She noticed that his arms weren't completely steady; the tiniest tremors traveled up and down the bowstring and the tip of the arrow wavered slightly. _Every fiber of him is questioning this decision. It's generally not good to point arrows at your superiors._ She offered the captain a genuine smile, taking into account the confusion that clouded his eyes. _He's surprised I'm not afraid. Good._

"You know, dear captain, intimidation only really works if you're… well… intimidating. Did you forget recently who I am? What I've done?" She allowed a small fireball to form again in her palm, the glow casting flickering shadows on his face. He angled his neck back slightly in a deeply satisfying display of fear. "I've _eaten_ things more intimidating that you."

Extinguishing the fire, she snapped her fingers, sliding into Fade Step and vanishing from their sight. With a gasp, the captain fell backwards, eyebrows narrowed. Five pairs of eyes turned to stare at him. Elita rolled her eyes as the young elf lowered his bow and glared at his leader. " _Why_ … did you think that was wise?"

 _Should put_ him _in charge._ Turning from the group, she moved quickly eastward, aware that Fade Step left a trail. _I hope the smoke covers at least some of it._ Her brief excursion ended as she reached her limit, spilling back into the real world. The feeling was stronger, pulsing in every vein. _He's altering it in some way. Again._

Staff poised at the ready, she began walking. The sensation grew in intensity, and she encountered small clusters of spirits, visibly distraught. One had been reduced to merely a green wisp of smoke, emitting a cry so mournful it reached Elita's bones. She extended her hand, glowing with spirit magic, and the spirit eased, slipping into a soft whisper. " _Ir abelas_." The words allowed it to drift slowly away, light and free.

 _Why would you do this to them? They are your friends._ Determination increased her speed, and soon she had reached the deepest part of the valley. Below her, a faint blue glow sliced through the smoke. Her heart physically hurt; whatever transformation was occurring was definitely coming from here. She began to walk down the incline, noticing the skeletons of houses lining the path. _A village. Oh… oh no._

People were huddled in groups, crying. Women searched for missing children. Men collected steel and vanished over the hillside, screaming out a war cry. Intermingled with the terror were the spirits, equally as lost and in pain. And in the center, beneath a powerful blue dome, was a hooded figure holding a staff, his back to her. The elaborate instrument danced in graceful curls around the mage, his fingers twisting it fluidly with years of practice.

Elita stopped, watching. _That little flare you sometimes do with your staff._ Exactly the same, after all these years. The sight was almost painful. She took a long breath, her heart rattling out a rhythm, and leaned on her own staff. "You know, it's incredibly difficult to locate a man who does not want to be found."

The flare faded, the staff halting mid-rotation. He didn't move for a moment, the silence yawning between them like a chasm. Then his voice echoed out to her ears, lilting and soft and familiar.

"…It has been a long time, _vhenan_."

She lowered her staff to her side as the hooded figure in front of her turned around. His face was lined and tired, weighed down by his task and the path he had chosen to walk. But his eyes… those were still bright, intelligent… sad. _Far too long._ His mouth lifted in the beginnings of a smile, the smile she had so longed to see again, but it didn't quite reach those eyes.

They followed her every move as she wound her way among the terrified spirits and people, ignored by both as if she did not exist. She reached the edge of his barrier, extended several feet away from him, bright and solid. Dividing them. Her hand lifted to rest against it, staff tumbling to the scorched grass, forgotten.

" _Four years_." She spoke the words across the distance. "But it's not as though I was counting."

Another smile, a real one this time. "You have not changed."

"…But _you_ have." Elita pressed her fingers harder against the barrier, but it remained. She found his gaze again and held it through the soft blue glow. "You… oh, Solas…"

He avoided her eyes once more, staring at a patch of flames to his right. "I warned you, _vhenan_. There was only death on this journey." Sorrow flickered across his face. "I did not want you to see me like this."

A bitter laugh escaped her, short and laced with loss. "You expected me to stay away? After everything…" Her voice caught on the last word. Solas took a step closer to her, and then another as she continued speaking. "I considered it. The pain could have been too much. But I… I couldn't. I wanted to see you. I _needed_ to see you."

He had reached her as the last of the words finished, the thin barrier now the only thing separating them. His face looked younger somehow, more vibrant. She leaned towards him. "Six archers. Farther up the mountain. Likely following me. I _had_ to find you first." The next statement gripped her heart like a vise. "They're here to kill you."

The barrier fell, and she tumbled forward without it to support her weight. A faint yelp of surprise echoed out, and then he was there to catch her, allowing his own staff to fall to the ground. The protective wall snapped back into place the second she touched his arms. Solas' breath was shaky against her hair as he lifted her to her feet and an arrow cracked in half against his work.

His hands rose to encircle her, one sliding into her hair, the other curling around her waist. He drew her to him as though she was the only thing keeping him whole. "I have just labeled you a traitor." His voice was nearly inaudible, the level of soft it usually reached when he was shocked. Guilt floated in every corner of the sentence. Ever so slowly he began to back away from her, just as he had at the waterfall six years ago.

Elita stopped him. _Not again_. Her fingers laced with his, pulled him back to her. "…No. I stopped to talk to you instead of attacking on sight. I warned you about the archers." She brought her hand to rest on the side of his face, his own falling limply at his sides, lost. Her face hovered inches away from his, a sad smile flitting over her lips. "I was already a traitor, Solas."

Gently, hesitantly, his arms wrapped around her, bringing her closer once more. Elita buried her face in his shoulder, blocking out the world. Acrid smoke clung to his robes, but underneath it was the scent of old paper and ink, pine and lyrium. The familiarity ached. _…I missed you so much._

After a moment he drew her to face him, fingers resting on the side of her head, tangled in her hair. She searched his face. Carefully blank, save for those eyes. They were a storm of emotion; loss, regret, pain, desperation, restraint, _love_.

Flames and chaos roared outside the barrier, but he looked only at her. Pressing his forehead against hers, he made the distance between them even smaller. She could see every piece of evidence that his journey had weakened him in perfect detail. The last of the restraint slipped from his eyes. He kissed her with a longing that conveyed more than words ever could have.

When he at last pulled away, his eyes were calm. No storm. No doubt. _I recognize that look…_ Her grip on him tightened. "Solas…"

"I have succeeded, _vhenan_. The Veil is torn, gone. The mistake I made has been corrected, and the final pieces of my plan have fallen into place. The world will heal." His eyes dropped closed, their foreheads still touching. "And I was able to see you again, by some stroke of luck."

Y _ou're being grim and fatalistic. I won't let you. I can't_. "No. Stop talking like that. Right now."

His touch rose from her waist, the loss opening a hole in her chest. Lifting her hand from around his neck, he held it briefly in his own. "They are here for _me_. I cannot… _will not_ allow them to hurt you."

The shaking began in her fingertips and soon traveled the whole of Elita's body until she was trembling. "Please…"

Reality and pain rushed at her as the barrier began to dissolve. _"Ir abelas, ma vhenan. Ar lath ma."_ He released her as he walked backwards across the clearing, his eyes never leaving her face. They danced around her features as though he was trying to commit every detail to memory.

She tried to follow. _I can't lose you again._ But he twitched his fingers and the barrier returned. It covered her, protected her, from what she'd said awaited him. " _No_. You're not… _you can't do this to me._ " Elita pressed her hand flat against the wall of magic, attempting to dispel it herself. It simply rippled underneath her fingers, distorting his face. _He's more powerful than I am_. "Solas! Stop this, please!" Tears filled the corners of her eyes.

Solas did not respond to her pleas, his face holding nothing except concern for her. He stood in the clearing, strong, silent, and waited. Elita prayed. _Maybe the captain didn't follow me. Maybe I lost him in the smoke…_ And then the first arrow found its mark, whistling out of the sky with deadly precision. She was unable to contain the scream that tore from her throat.

The impact caused the barrier to waver, but it held. His eyes widened slightly at the pain, though the rest of his expression remained unchanged. He never broke her gaze as a second arrow, and then a third, fell from the sky. _Why would you…_ She strained against the barrier, which had grown thinner as crimson spread across his chest and soaked his robes. Her welling tears fell with reckless abandon against the grass.

With a tremendous _crack_ the barrier at last shattered, a fourth arrow adding to the blood already pooling in the folds of fabric. Elita ran to him and he collapsed against her, weak and shaking. "Oh, Solas… Why?" _Why would you leave me?_ Bracing for more arrows, she thought she could hear the captain shouting orders. But they were alone amid the fire and the screams. She lowered him to the ground softly, horrified at the amount of blood that snaked onto her armor. "What does this _solve_?" Red soon stained her hand and fingers as she let it flit over his chest. _So much blood… I may not be able to-_ His hand closed around hers, preventing her attempts to heal him.

Storm-grey eyes locked to her face, still bright and intelligent and sad. "It solves… everything. We were never going to have a civil conversation. Not after what they've witnessed. I would have died here today… regardless. I have grown… tired of running. And in accepting the inevitable now, I can save you… once more." A sharp intake of breath, chopped against the pain. Soft fingers brushed her hair away from welling eyes. "Do not cry, _vhenan. Ar lasa mala… revas_." The last word passed his lips as the light died from his eyes and he went limp, fingers still loosely twined with hers.

She gasped through her tears, gripping his hand tighter. "Please… you can't. I don't want… no..." But he was gone. _I've lost him. Forever this time. There's no making light of that._ Spindly, fragile cracks worked their way into her heart and stayed there, aching and fraying against every beat. Elita untwined her fingers from his, her palm crimson with his blood. She cradled the hand to her chest, eyes trained on his blank, empty face staring at the screaming sky.

Something caught her attention as she moved to back away, jutting out between the folds of red. Something angular, and familiar.

 _"What is it? It seems important to you."_

 _"It is… a memory. Of a time long past. And a much younger elf who thought he understood."_

With care she lifted it from amid the arrows and over his head, cupping it in her hand. The wolf jawbone at the end of the leather cord was bloodstained, but looked exactly the same as it had every time she'd seen him. _I've never seen you take it off. Not until now…_

The leather was smooth against her skin as she placed it around her own neck, the jawbone falling to rest against her stomach. Its weight was comforting; a reminder. She wrapped a hand around it as she stood, running her fingers over the many grooves and ridges. Her gaze finally tore from him, turning to take in the burning remains of the village. Screams and cries of fear from both spirits and people echoed to reach her ears.

"Raw chaos," he had called it once, four years ago. _You were right, Solas._ As she stood over his motionless form, a breeze carried the scent of smoke and death, blood and steel. The edges of the jawbone dug into her skin. _"Ar lasa mala revas."_ You are free. But the words rang very hollow.

* * *

A new voice worked its way into Elita's head, shattering the clouds and ringing in her ears. _"Da'len? Wake up, you're shaking. Please."_ She felt hands on her shoulder, but they were separate from the turmoil and the loss. Distant. Turning in their direction, the world tilted and spun around her, warping and changing.

With a sharp inhale she jolted upright, shaking her bedroll and facing the soft wall of her tent. Keeper Deshanna took several steps back, grey eyes dark with worry. Elita blinked rapidly in the darkness, the soft glow of a candle allowing her eyes to adjust. Her skin itched; cold sweat beaded on her forehead and ran down her face. Tears had dried on her cheeks, and her hair was plastered to the back of her neck. Against the covers her fingers shook, but they were clean, not crimson.

 _H-he's not…_ Her thoughts stuttered, mangled and unfocused. She turned to the Keeper. "It was… so vivid. I… felt like I was there." Lifting a shaking hand to her forehead, she sighed deeply. "They're usually not… that bad. Usually I… have control over what happens. This time, I felt awake. It felt _real._ " _Did he have something to do with that?_

Deshanna knelt next to her bed, placing the candle on the small table. "What did you see?" Her voice was laced with concern.

Elita ran her fingers through her hair slowly, organizing her thoughts. "…War. Death. A torn Veil and a world in chaos."

The Keeper nodded thoughtfully, hands folded on the edge of the covers, but she clearly knew that wasn't the whole story.

 _Don't ask. Please. I don't… I can't think about it._ She looked at her hand, forced it to stop twitching. The Keeper stood, reaching over and clasping it between her own. "I am glad you're alright. If you need me, for anything…" She left the sentence hanging, implying her expectation of a later conversation. Elita simply nodded, once, and Deshanna left, letting the tent flap fall closed behind her.

 _Oh, Solas._ She fell against her bedroll, the screams and the blood and the pain chasing each other around her mind. _Is that how this is going to end? It can't possibly. I'm going to redeem you, whether you accept it or not._ So absorbed was she in her thoughts she hadn't noticed the weight against her stomach until that moment. Her hand jumped to her throat, finding the smooth leather cord that looped over her head. _Impossible…_

She lifted the cord, snagging the object on the end of it in her blanket. _I can't have…_ It came free swiftly, fractured and jagged in the candlelight. The jawbone looked harsher in the broken flame, hanging from her fingers. Elita stared at it, entirely at a loss for words.

The edge of her hand brushed the bone, and his voice rose to resonate in her mind. _"I should have known better than to doubt your indomitable focus…"_ A pause. Elita breathed shakily, now clutching it like a lifeline. _"But there is only one way this will end, vhenan. I have warned you before. I am warning you again."_ His words were cold, but his voice betrayed him, ringing with warmth. _"I… will never forget you. Find happiness. Live in the time that is left. Please."_

 _…It's far too late, Solas. I'm sorry._ His last words were fading, leaving her alone with the necklace pressed into her palm. _I'm not about to forget you, either._


End file.
